


On Loan

by id_shade



Series: Lost and Unfound [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Prostitute Stiles Stilinski, Sexual Slavery, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_shade/pseuds/id_shade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sees a customer. Scott supervises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Loan

**Author's Note:**

> I'll level with you, I wasn't going to make this a series but I wanted to write some quick sex and h/c. Turned somewhat one-sided Scott/Stiles on a whim, so I'm adding it as part of a series rather than as a chapter. More guilty pleasure fic for my guilty pleasure AO3 pseud.

Scott hadn’t been asleep exactly. He’d drifted off a couple of times, into a light doze. That was what the opening of the door woke him up from. For the first couple of seconds, he struggled to pin down exactly where he was.

Outside the city, with Stiles, in a place that let you pay to fuck humans as a side business.

Scott looked from the three men at the door to his phone. He still had signal, and there were no missed messages from Derek. Even Derek would have called once he’d done his part in this exchange. These men weren’t here to let them out. Scott growled.

Two of the men at the door were large, undoubtedly bodyguards. They stepped forward now, pulling batons from their hips as they eyed Scott warily. “Calm down,” said the third man, a smaller fellow, the one who had escorted them to their room. “We’re not here to hurt anyone. We just need to talk.”

Scott got his feet, ready to fight his way out of here if they needed to. “What?”

The small man cleared his throat and stepped forward. Not too far forward. Not so far that the men with batons couldn’t easily close ranks in front of him. “My name is Calvin. Cal,” he paused when Scott growled a second time. “I won’t waste your time,” Cal said quickly, changing his tactics when he saw he wouldn’t be winning anyone over. Instead, his tone became frank. “We lost two… employees tonight. One we’re prepared for. But two is a bit of a bother. We’d be willing to offer you a discount, if-”

“You’re kidding,” Scott interrupted. He didn’t want to hear the rest.

“Alternatively,” Cal continued. “I’ve been instructed to offer you the option of leaving before additional payment arrives. We trust you’ll hold your end of the bargain and deliver the rest. It’ll all be in good faith.”

Scott was about to tell them to just get out, but Stiles spoke first, standing up beside him. “It’s fine.”

Scott turned to Stiles, surprised. “We’ll wait. It’s-”

Stiles sighed, the sound a weary one. “It really doesn’t matter to me. It’s fine.” He glanced over at Cal then abruptly lowered his gaze. “Sorry for interrupting.”

This was outrageous. Scott shook his head. “No! Someone else can-” But Scott couldn’t even finish that thought. He looked at Cal, saw that he was still waiting for his permission. Scott was the one who had paid for Stiles, after all. He was the one who had to agree to this. Scott looked at Stiles again. He was looking at the floor, waiting for them to decide. “Do what you want,” Scott said, quietly. Then louder, so Cal could hear, “He can do what he wants.”

Cal’s gaze shifted to Stiles. He motioned him over and Stiles came. Cal spoke to him in a low voice before letting him leave the room on his own.

The two bouncers stepped forward suddenly, batons raised and ready. Scott realized he’d taken a step forward after Stiles without thinking.

“It’s okay,” said Cal. It was unclear whether he was talking to Scott or the bouncers, but they relaxed their aggressive stances anyway. “We have only the highest respect for alphas. We hardly get your kind around here. It’s mostly betas or omegas when it comes to werewolves.” He chuckled. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Scott gave Cal a look that made his friendly demeanor fade again.

“Do you want to watch?” asked Cal. Surprisingly, there was nothing suggestive about the question. “There are rooms between some of these rooms and in the cubicles. One-way mirrors. You can keep an eye on him if you want. Otherwise you can wait in here. Up to you.”

In the end, Scott couldn’t stand the thought that he might lose track of Stiles again. He went upstairs and was directed down a side corridor. The woman from before, the one with the scales around her hairline glanced up from her podium and raised her eyebrows at them, but Cal just gave her a dismissive wave of his hand. “Down there,” he told Scott. “Last one on the left.”

It was a disgusting place. Low lit and filled with ambient sounds of flesh on flesh. At the end of the narrow hallway, Scott pulled back a curtain that revealed two small windows and a man pleasuring himself. He went immediately to the windows, letting his eyes glow red when the man masturbating tried to shove him out of the way. Scott heard the man leaving for another cubicle as he turned back to the windows.

One window was uneventful. A thin woman in a negligee was sprawled out on a lumpy cot, one arm thrown over her eyes as if she was trying to get a quick nap in between clients. Scott spent an inordinate amount of time looking at her rather than what was going on behind the window to his right. He could still see it, though; out of the corner of his eye. It was impossible to fully ignore.

Gradually, Scott’s gaze was drawn over to Stiles. He was sitting naked on the bed, legs spread, hand resting on the head of a man crouched on the floor in front of him. Scott thought maybe the man was sucking him off, but that looked unlikely. Every so often, Stiles’ impassive expression would twist in pain and his fingers would tighten in the man’s hair.

When the man finally sat back on his heels, red was in sharp contrast with his unnaturally gray skin. He ran his tongue over a mouthful of sharp teeth as he smiled up at Stiles before going back down, biting at the inside of his other thigh this time, where Scott could see. Scott hit the window with the heel of his hand, not thinking. Stiles jumped, an action the man between his legs, gleefully, seemed to interpret as resistance. He was up and on top of Stiles in a blur, pushing him down on the bed, knocking the breath from him and burying his head in the curve between neck and shoulder.

Stiles watched the window - or, rather, mirror on his end. He regarded it upside down and frowning. Scott stood very still, like it made any difference at all.

“Get up,” said the man, Stiles’ blood dribbling from his mouth, down onto Stiles’ bare throat and chest. Scott’s ears pricked as he listened through the wall.

Stiles obeyed. He rose unsteadily to his knees. Scott tensed, not sure how much blood he’d lost, not sure whether he should go to him or not. Meanwhile, Stiles swatted the man away as he leaned in and nipped at his shoulder. “Back off for a second, will you?” He struggled with the chain for a moment. They’d fastened it back to the metal collar, if only for appearances. Stiles finally turned to face him, back against the wall. The man had unfastened his pants by now, cock in hand, palm already slick with lube from the rickety bedside table. He leaned forward, licking blood from Stiles’ chest. Scott saw Stiles roll his eyes then close them tight as the man lifted him up.

One hand on the small of his back and the other beneath one of his legs; he angled Stiles just-so and pushed in deep. Stiles exhaled slowly and rolled his shoulders from the wall, reaching for the man’s biceps as the hands on his body were repositioned around the shifting of his weight. Scott watched Stiles move with the man, up and down, away then close. He watched the muscles tighten in his legs and in his arms. He watched the play of skin over bone, blood smears and old scars shifting subtly as he arched back.

It wasn’t long before Stiles was shaking with the strain of keeping himself up. As thin as he was, as much blood as he’d lost, Scott wasn’t surprised. The man fucking him had already been doing most of the heavy lifting and didn’t seem to mind this new development in the least. He braced Stiles back against the wall and continued for a couple of thrusts before pulling out, still erect. Stiles wasn’t, Scott noted, feeling his face grow hot. That feeling of awkward embarrassment intensified when Scott realized  he  was.

Scott took a couple of steps away from the window then, horrified with himself.

To say Stiles’ disappearance had put a strain on his love life would be putting it mildly. Between that and the reality of the world around him, guilt had been a pretty effective mood killer. He was still trying to rationalize his arousal when he heard Stiles murmur something unintelligible.

Scott hurried back to the window. Stiles was on the floor, the man kneeling beside him, Stiles’ wrist against his mouth. A pained whimpering sound came from Stiles. He writhed weakly against the man and his lips moved around a word that even Scott couldn’t hear. The meaning was clear enough, though. Stiles wanted him to stop.

Scott rushed from the cubicle and back down the hallway. There was a brief struggle with a bouncer. “Get out of the way,” he ordered. “Move,” he insisted. “I paid for him didn’t I?!” Scott cringed as soon as it was out of his mouth, but it was those words that made them let him past.

There wasn’t any point, in the end. By the time Scott was opening the curtain, the man on top of Stiles was finishing. Two shuddering thrusts. Stiles moved with the impact of it from where he lay prone and face down on the floor. Scott just stared. He stood there as the man stood up and adjusted his clothing. He stood there as the man walked past, giving Scott a strange look on his way out. “Impatient?” 

Scott said nothing, but once the man had gone, he did enter the cubicle himself. The stench of blood and cum was overwhelming. Seeing Stiles lying there with both on him made Scott nauseous. He knelt down anyway and gathered Stiles, carefully, into his arms. Scott sat back against the wall, rolling Stiles onto his back and into his lap as he went.

Stiles’ head lolled until Scott maneuvered it against his chest. He was still breathing. His heart was racing, even. There was a worrying amount of blood though. Scott reached for Stiles’ wrist, leeching pain that felt oddly dull.

“He’s probably fine,” said Cal, standing near the curtain. “That kind of Sidhe whatsit likes its food alive. Something in their saliva makes the blood coagulate faster or something. I don’t know exactly, all I know is they’re easier to clean up after than fucking wendigos.” He flashed Scott a smile that wasn’t returned. “As I understand it, it gets humans high. You might have to carry him out of here. You can leave any time, by the way.”

Scott ignored Cal, focusing instead on Stiles. He came around somewhat when Scott brushed back his hair. Stiles made a vague effort to locate Scott with one hand, eyelids fluttering drowsily. Accessing there was someone in the room, he gave a resigned sort of sigh and began to sit up. He pressed his body to Scott’s and laid one hand flat against his stomach, sliding it down, fingers nudging between the waist of Scott’s jeans and skin.

“Woah,” said Scott, is a somewhat choked voice. It was mostly because he was finding himself aroused again. Scott felt his face flush in shame as he caught Stiles by the forearm and pushed his hand back.

Stiles opened his eyes, blinking several times as he tried to focus. “Scott?” he asked, sounding skeptical.

“Yeah,” Scott said, forcing a smile, hoping Stiles wouldn’t realize what he’d done or how Scott had responded. He prayed Stiles wouldn’t guess he’d been watching or notice how nervous he was just now.

Of all things, Stiles laughed. “You found me,” he said, like it had slipped his mind and he needed reminding. “Just when I was starting to wish you wouldn’t.”

“Stiles…” It hurt Scott to hear that. As much must have shown on his face, because it seemed to sober Stiles some.

“I missed you, man.” He said it with sincerity, even if the words were slightly slurred.

Scott opened his mouth to return the sentiment, but that didn’t seem like enough. He was still fumbling with what to say next when Stiles wrapped his arms around him in a clumsy but desperate sort of hug. Scott hugged him back. He took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Stiles and the conflicting emotions on him. “Come on,” he said after what felt like an age but was unlikely very long at all. “Let’s get out of here.”


End file.
